To Reverse A Mistake
by Bienvenue a Bikini Bottom
Summary: What if Peter had decided to stop Voldemort at the last minute? How would the lives of Harry, James and Lily be different?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: To Reverse A Mistake**

There had been a hoard of children running up and down the stairs of Peter Pettigrew's apartment complex all night long. The thumps were so loud that some of Peter's furniture even started to shake. It was Halloween, after all, so that kind of behavior was to be expected, but Peter was not one for rowdiness and noises, even though he had caused a lot of it back in his Hogwarts days.

_I just can't wait until this stupid holiday is over with, _he thought. _It's not even that great._

He leaned back, exhausted, in his red armchair that perched in the living room of his small apartment. Altogether, the apartment had one bedroom, one bathroom, one table, two wooden chairs, a small sofa, and the armchair in which Peter was sitting. There would have probably been more furniture if Peter's mother had wanted to spend the extra five hundred galleons, as Peter did not have a job of his own at the moment.

Well, at least not a job that he got money for. He had a job, all right, but it was definitely not one that people would draw attention to. Peter Pettigrew was a double agent, pretending to work as a member of the Order of the Phoenix for Albus Dumbledore, but in truth working as a Death Eater for the Wizarding world's most feared Dark wizard, Lord Voldemort. Not many people, including Peter and anyone he knew (at least to his knowledge), knew Voldemort's real name or who he really was or had been.

Peter sank down in his armchair and closed his eyes, thinking about what had gone on earlier that day. He remembered Voldemort's irritating high-pitched voice as he told Peter, "I will get rid of the Potters tonight," after Peter had given him the final information that the Dark Lord needed.

He didn't quite understand why, but for some reason, Peter found Voldemort's plan quite disturbing. Of course he had known Voldemort's plan all along, but now, his actually carrying it out made Peter nervous, not to mention a bit guilty.

Voldemort's plan was to kill James and Lily Potter, along with their son Harry, who was the subject of a prophecy, which reportedly had declared that Harry would be the one to vanquish Voldemort.

Peter had been the one to give the Potters' whereabouts away to Voldemort. After taking the job as their Secret-Keeper, Peter had been promised by Voldemort great power if he were to give information. So, Peter had agreed, thinking it a good idea at the time.

Now, however, he was starting to feel cold and empty inside. It had puzzled him all day as to why.

Then, as he listened to the sound of the happy children running up and down the stairs without a care in the world, Peter realized exactly why he felt guilty.

James Potter had been his best friend at Hogwarts. Unlike the rest of the students, who had always pictured Peter as a klutz and a fool, James had always been there for him.

%^%^

Peter's worst memory was in his very first year as a student. It was, in fact, moments after all the students had arrived on the Hogwarts Express, which was going to transport all the students to Hogwarts. A pair of older Slytherin boys chased Peter down the train's walkway, calling him a fat pig and making fun of his wheat-colored hair. In all seriousness, Peter thought of himself as a fat pig because of his large size. His Healer had actually been nagging him about losing weight for years. But, those boys were making it a whole lot worse.

Peter threw open a compartment door, hoping to find a place to hide from the boys, when he found two boys his own age already in the compartment. They both had black hair, although one wore glasses and his hair stuck up in all different directions, while the other's hair was smooth and flat.

No sooner had Peter found his way into the compartment, even before he had time to exchange a word with the other boys who were already inside, the two Slytherins barged in.

"Trying to hide from us, pig?" one of the boys, a tall blond with a prefect's badge glistening on his uniform, sneered. How ironic was it for this boy to be a prefect? Peter had thought. They were supposed to help the younger students, not torture the living day lights out of them.

"Don't call him a pig!"

Peter turned around to see that the boy with glasses had stood up and looked as though he was prepared to punch the blond Slytherin clear between his cold gray eyes.

That is, in fact, what he did. In two seconds, he, along with the other boy, had tackled the two Slytherins to the ground.

The Slytherins were some of the most cowardly boys Peter had ever met, because as soon as they had been knocked to the ground, they scampered out of the compartment.

"Chickens!" the boy with glasses had shouted. "They're too scared to fight because they're afraid they'll get expelled. I know that's what it is."

"Are you okay?" the smooth haired boy had asked Peter.

"Yeah. Thanks," Peter almost stuttered, very embarrassed to have caused all of that commotion.

"They won't bother you anymore." The boy with glasses had smiled. "I'm James. James Potter." He held out his pale thin hand for Peter to shake.

Peter had felt so welcomed by both the boys. No one had ever shown him that much kindness as to defend him from bullies. From that day forward, the two of them had been Peter's best friends, especially James Potter.

%^%^

With that sudden flash of memory, reality had just set in Peter's brain, along with more guilt and shame. There was no way that he could let James and his family die after all James had done for him. There was just no way. He had to be brave. For once in his life, he had to be brave and repay James for all his love and help.

But, there was only one thing Peter could do to stop Voldemort from reaching his goal. Quickly, he sprung up from his armchair and sprinted towards his fireplace. Taking some powder from the jar near the poker, Peter threw it into the fire and shouted, "One twenty-seven, Benson Street, Godric's Hollow!"

%^%^

"Can you count the bubbles, Harry?" James Potter asked his fifteen-month-old son playfully.

James had been blowing smoke bubbles out of his wand for about ten minutes for his son's enjoyment. The little boy just loved to watch as the colorful puffs came out and disappeared. In between thumb sucks, he giggled happily in his faded blue pajamas.

The door to the parlor opened and in walked James' wife, Lily. Her long dark red hair was framing her face, making it look like a lion's mane.

"Laundry's done," she announced cheerfully, seemingly glad to be done with all the domestic work for the day.

"And Harry seems to be very tired," James replied, noticing the big yawn that his son had just done. He picked the boy up and placed him in Lily's arms.

Lily kissed her husband lightly on the mouth. "You look tired, too," she remarked, grinning.

"I am." James tossed his wand on the couch near him and let out a yawn as big as his son's. He felt more exhausted than he had in days.

"Then, maybe we should all-"

Lily did not have time to finish her sentence, as a loud thump could be heard throughout the small cottage. James' heart stopped and his legs began to shake, as did all the furniture in the house.

Lily looked at James, horrified. "What _was_ that?" She looked just as panicky as James felt and held their son closer.

"I-I don't know." James quickly grabbed his wand from the couch and wrapped his arm around Lily and Harry, afraid to leave the room. Both adults stared at the closed parlor door. James could feel the sweat seeping through his palms.

"JAMES! LILY!" a voice roared from somewhere in the living room. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

James took a deep sigh of relief when he recognized the voice as Peter Pettigrew's.

He and Lily looked at each other, perplexed, for a moment, before running out of the room to see what all the commotion was about.

"Peter?" James shouted as he and Lily reached the living room, noticing at once that his friend was covered in soot from the fireplace. "What are you doing here?"

"You've got to run, James." Peter's breathing was fast and his voice was full of panic. He grabbed hold of James' robes and shook them. "You've got to run! He's coming!"

"What?" Lily asked from next to James, still holding Harry securely in her arms. "What do you mean 'he's coming'? He can't see us."

"Yes he can, Lily!" Peter squealed, tears now streaming down his face. His whole body was trembling. "I TOLD HIM!"

Peter fell on the floor and kicked his feet, as if he were a five-year-old baby having a tantrum after having been refused a candy bar by his mother. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm so so sorry," he sobbed uncontrollably.

Then, without warning, the unthinkable happened. The sound of the front door being blasted off its hinges flooded the ears of the four people in the house, including Harry, who let out a loud wail in protest.

Peter scrambled to his feet and yanked his wand from the pocket of his ash-covered robes.

"I can't let him do this," he muttered, his face plastered with the most determined, the most brave look James had ever seen upon it.

"Well, well, well," a cold voice sneered. Standing in front of the four of them, red-eyed and white-skinned, was Lord Voldemort himself with a wicked grin upon his face. "A beautiful couple, a little baby, and my faithful servant, Wormtail. Have you come to help me finish them off?"

Voldemort addressed this last sentence to Peter, but the latter stared at the former defiantly. James and Lily put their arms around each other and Harry.

"I have _not_ come to help you." Peter's stare was now menacing. "I have to come to _stop_ you."

Voldemort's devilish eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, really?" he asked mockingly, twirling his wand in his hand. "No one has ever challenged Lord Voldemort before."

"I just did!" Peter shouted. "James and Lily have done far too much for me to die! I made a mistake and I'm going to correct it!"

Voldemort let out a high-pitched cackle that sent a chill down James' spine. "We'll see," he replied in the same cruel, mocking voice.

Then, as sudden as a bolt of lightning, two voices cried out at once, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

Two jets of green light erupted from two separate wands, one from Peter's and the other from Voldemort's. As the two lights emerged, they bent backward, straight into the faces of their castors, who flew backward in opposite directions.

Peter's body hit a yellow-shaded lamp in the corner of the room, while Voldemort's barely missed the living room window and instead collided with the coffee table.

James and Lily rushed to Peter, both shouting his name. James grabbed Peter's hand to check for a pulse, but there was nothing.

Tears began flowing from James' eyes. His best friend was dead, and he had sacrificed himself because he had wanted to redeem himself, to reverse his mistake.

And neither James nor Lily would ever forget it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two-To Reverse A Mistake**

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed this story so far! I greatly appreciate it. Please keep the reviews coming!**

"Harry! It's time to wake up!"

Harry Potter opened one eye at the sound of his mother's voice and groaned. He took hold of the covers, hoping to pull them far enough over his head so as to block out Lily's voice, but she kept calling.

"Mum," he finally whined, "can't I just have three more minutes?"

He felt the bed dip as his mother sat down. She had obviously just come up the stairs because her voice had sounded much farther away before. Gently, she pulled the covers off her son's head, forcing him to open his eyes. Harry could tell that Lily had been awake for a while. She already had on her makeup, which consisted of a light brown eye shadow (which complimented her bright green eyes), brown mascara, and blush. She had never been one for eyeliner. In fact, Harry wasn't even sure that she had ever owned any.

No." Lily responded to her son's question quietly and firmly. "We're going to Diagon Alley in an hour. We have to get all your school supplies."

"Oh." Harry rubbed his eyes, the same color and shape as his mother's, and sat up. He had totally forgotten that he would be going to Diagon Alley today, and remembering made him much more enthusiastic. He loved Diagon Alley, especially Quality Quidditch Supplies. Once, when he had gone in there a few years ago, a famous Quidditch player named Emil Johansson was there autographing pictures of himself. Since Harry had no picture of him, Johansson had actually given him one and signed it for free! It had been the best day of his life.

"Let's go," Harry said happily, sliding off his bed as though it were a slide at a playground. He stepped over his clothes that were scattered on the floor (Harry never bothered to put his clothes away, which annoyed his mother more than anything.) and reached the door.

"Don't you want to eat first?" Lily asked, still perched on her son's bed, "or get dressed? I doubt you want to go there in your pajamas." She chuckled, her eyes bright.

"You're right, Mum," Harry agreed, noticing for the first time that he was rather hungry. His stomach roared like a lioness attempting to protect her cubs from a poacher.

He walked hurriedly down the stairs, each step making a slight creak as Harry's foot hit it. The house the Potters lived in was rather old, despite its small size and structure. Since most houses that had been around for more than a century were castles and mansions made from brick and stone, a wooden cottage only seemed as though it would last a few decades. However, according to history, this humble house had been around for at least two centuries, having sheltered the Potter family for several generations.

Almost every wall in the house showed signs of Lily Potter's hand for decorating. She had come up with her own special patterns and had physically put them on the walls herself (with help from James and their friends, of course) shortly after having moved into the house with her new husband. Since then, her creativity had allowed her to take a job as a part-time interior designer, a job she could do from home at any time. James, on the other hand, had taken up a job as an Auror when Harry was three.

The kitchen was covered in large sunflowers that complimented the morning sun, something that Harry's father would have rather not wanted in his kitchen (or anywhere in the house, for that matter). Yet, the man had always been willing to please his wife, which normally meant being obliged to go along with all of her decisions. The furniture was a dark, polished oak, contrasting a bit with the walls.

Harry sat down at the table in the chair next to his father, who was dressed for the day and reading _The Daily Prophet_, the Wizarding newspaper. Upon seeing his son, James smiled, a twinkle in his hazel eyes behind his round glasses.

"Hello, Harry," he said. "Are you excited about today?"

"Yep," Harry smiled, reaching for the oatmeal box that was on the table in front of him. "I can't wait." He paused and turned around, hopelessly looking at the teakettle that held the hot water in it. "Dad..." the boy began, "could you..."

"Sure." Without saying another word, James flicked his wand at the teakettle, bringing it over to the table and pouring it into Harry's bowl. "But, this is the last time. From now on, you get up and do it yourself." He looked at his son from over the top of the newspaper, which always signaled to Harry that his father was being serious.

"Ok," Harry replied, opening up the oatmeal box and pouring some dried flakes into his bowl. He sat and watched as they started to soften and become mush before he began stirring them.

Lily walked into the kitchen moments later and kissed her husband's forehead. Then, her eyes narrowed at the cup of tea in front of him.

"Is that all you're having for breakfast?" she asked, sounding concerned. "Just tea?"

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes, trying to do so without his mother's knowledge. For the past month, it seemed, Lily had been nagging James about not eating enough. Harry didn't see what the problem was. His father had always been very slender, something that most people would think to be a good thing. Lily, being thin herself, didn't eat much, either, and James never complained about it. So, Harry couldn't understand why his mother was making such a big deal out of his father's eating habits.

"You know I'm not a morning person, Lily," James told his wife, pausing to give her a kiss on the cheek. "My stomach's never awake."

"Can we go, please?" Harry asked, shoving as much oatmeal as he could into his mouth, almost causing him to choke. He hated when his parents were lovey-dovey in front of him. Sure, they had every right to be, but Harry thought it was unnecessary to it in front of their son. Besides, he was extremely anxious to be going to Diagon Alley, his favorite place in the world. There was no time to waste.

"Ok, go upstairs and brush your teeth," Lily said.

Harry bolted up the stairs, turned on the faucet, and squeezed toothpaste on his toothbrush. After having his toothbrush in his mouth for no more than a millisecond, he descended the stairs again.

"Ready!" He shouted happily. "Let's go!"

%^%^

Two hours later, Harry was making an attempt to drag his parents to Quality Quidditch Supplies. He had already gotten most of his school things, including his books, his robes, and his wand, and he was glad to be almost done.

Trying on robes had been the worst. At first, Madam Malkins hadn't fit his robes right. She had put the pins in the wrong places, hemming it far less than needed, which had caused Harry to slip and fall off the stool he had been standing on. To make it worse, all of this had taken place in front of Draco Malfoy, a boy whose mother had done absolutely nothing to stop him from laughing at Harry as he fell from the stool. From the looks of it, though, it seemed to Harry that his parents and the other boy's mother knew each other, but did not have good relations. They .had stared the other woman in the eye menacingly as the whole thing unfolded.

Getting his wand hadn't been fun for Harry, either. It had taken him five wands to finally find the right one, which went along with smashing everything in sight during each trial. Harry was surprised that Mr. Ollivander, the shopkeeper, hadn't just given up on him and told him to get out of the shop. However, the old man stayed calm and continued to smile with every passing crash and explosion, until, finally, Harry had found the right wand: ebony and unicorn hair, eleven inches. He jumped for joy as hard as he could, fully happy to be done with smashing everything. James and Lily had actually offered to pay Ollivander for the damage, but the old man had just smiled and kindly declined, stating that, as a wand seller, he "saw these kinds of things happen all the time."

"Hurry," Harry urged his parents, feeling as though he were already a mile in front of them. As always, they were taking their time, strolling hand-in-hand down the alleyway, as if it were some romantic getaway, which Harry didn't understand at all. Nothing about Diagon Alley's noisy crowds and bustling shops made it seem romantic to him.

"You still need an owl," James informed his son. He and Lily both stopped in front of Eyelop's Owl Emporium, a store Harry hadn't even noticed was there before.

It was a large shop, at least two hundred years old when judging from the state of the wood. The doors were French style and had wavy glass in the panes. Looking in through the windows, Harry could see a menagerie of squawking owls.

"Let's go inside, sweetie," Lily said. "You need to pick one out."

Harry sighed and walked in. Of course, he needed an owl, but Quidditch was tagging at his brain at the moment. He would much rather have a broomstick. Unfortunately, Hogwarts did not allow first-year Quidditch players; so buying a broomstick would have been a waste, anyway. Harry had much better luck with getting an owl. Plus, there were most likely much more owls to choose from than there would be broomsticks. There were a group of speckled brown ones all sharing one large cage, and two owls, one black and one gray, were fighting over a dead mouse. Others of various colors were flying every which way and landing in random spots. One even landed on an old woman's head and started picking at her hair. Her granddaughter laughed in delight and chose that one as her own.

Harry walked around the shop, surveying each owl intently. He wanted to make sure that he chose a good one, one that could be relied upon whenever the time came to deliver mail. It wasn't until he got to the very back of the shop that he made his decision. A large snowy white owl with amber eyes was staring at him, as though it wanted him to pick it; and Harry agreed to do so.

"Mum! Dad!" he said enthusiastically, "come look at this one!"

Lily and James walked over to their son as quickly as they could, although the large crowd didn't allow them to move as quickly as they would have wanted.

Do you like it?" Harry asked his parents as soon as they had reached him. The bird tilted its head toward the bars of the cage, as though it were signaling for Harry to pet it. Cautiously, Harry reached his fingertips through the bars and rubbed the owl's head. It let out a soft noise Harry had never heard before, but which he assumed to be a type of purr.

"It looks like it likes _you_," Lily chuckled admirably.

"It's a _she_." James pointed to the sign below the cage that said the owl's gender and breed.

Then, without warning, he let out a strong cough. Startled by the noise, the owl in the cage went wild and began flapping her wings as though she were having a spasm.

"It's ok," Harry said, cooing to the bird.

"Are you all right, James?" Lily asked, concerned, putting her arm around her husband.

Harry turned around, sharing the same concern as his mother, and watched his father take off his glasses and wipe the tears that the cough had caused from his eyes.

"Yeah," James replied a bit hoarsely, clearing his throat. "I think it's all the animals in here. I normally don't have a problem with them, but I think there are just a little too many here for me to handle."

"Then, we should leave," Lily insisted. Harry could see the concern still lingering in his mother's beautiful green eyes.

She picked up the cage that held the owl and brought it over to the register for checkout. She obviously was not willing to have James carry it.

A few minutes later, once they had paid for the new owl, the Potters walked out of the store.

"I think I'll name her Hedwig," Harry said, mesmerized by his new owl's beauty. "She was a famous witch I heard about once. She did a lot of cool stuff, so I think I'll name my owl after her."

"That's a good idea," agreed James, looking at the now-sleeping owl that his wife had insisted on carrying.

Harry babbled about his new owl all the way to Quality Quidditch Supplies, thinking that getting an owl was going to be worth it after all.

%^%^

A week later, Harry was standing on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters with his parents and his godfather, waiting to board _The Hogwarts Express_, the magnificent scarlet train that would take him on the most exciting journey of his life.

"What time is it?" Harry had asked that question at least ten times while they had been standing there. The anticipation to get on the train was killing him.

"It's ten thirty-five," Harry's godfather, Sirius, responded, looking at his watch. He was a lean man with gray eyes and jet-black hair, the same color as that of Harry and his father. However, unlike James's and Harry's hair, Sirius's was flat, not sticking up all over creation. Sirius was also an Auror, as James was, and had known both of Harry's parents throughout their years at Hogwarts, the Wizarding school where Harry would be heading to in just a few minutes. He had even been their best man at their wedding.

Harry also believed his godfather to be the most handsome man he had ever had the pleasure of knowing, which made Harry very jealous. Sirius's features were perfectly angelic, and his smile brought light to everything in a room. Harry wasn't surprised when women attempted to flirt with him in random places. In fact, Sirius had actually dated a few of those women. Actually, when Harry came to think about it, he realized that Sirius had dated every single one of them. Unfortunately, none of the relationships had lasted all that long. It seemed to Harry that Sirius would date a girl, and then somehow break up with her the following week, bringing into the picture yet another one. His godfather clearly had a problem with commitment. Harry doubted if he would ever get married...

Harry tapped his feet on the ground impatiently.

"Time will go by soon enough, honey," Lily told her son. "Just be patient."

Harry sighed and looked around at all the other students around him. There was a large round woman with five redheaded children standing about ten feet from Harry and his family. She appeared to be scolding two of the boys, twins, for some reason or another. The tallest boy, whom Harry presumed to be the oldest, was already dressed in his school robes and had a badge glittering on his left side. Another boy was looking around at the train nervously, which told Harry that he was also new to Hogwarts. The youngest-looking child was a very pretty girl, her hair pulled back in a ponytail with a yellow ribbon. She held hands with her mother and seemed not to be paying attention to anything in particular, as her eyes were wandering all over the platform. Suddenly, however, they met Harry's own, and she smiled slightly. Harry couldn't help but smile back.

Finally, after it seemed like a lifetime to Harry, Sirius announced that it was ten fifty, when the train would start boarding. The boy turned around to hug each of his family members goodbye.

"Remember to have fun," Sirius said as he squeezed Harry tightly, "and tell Remus we all said hello, even though we'll probably be hearing from him tomorrow."

Remus Lupin was another family friend of the Potters. He had also attended school with them, and for the past nine years, had been teaching at Hogwarts as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. However, unbeknownst to the students (every student except Harry, that is), Remus held a deep secret that, if gotten out into the open, could cost him his career.

"Ok," Harry promised, patting his godfather on the back, "I will."

Harry then turned to his mother, who seized him in the biggest hug she had ever given him, and began kissing him as if there were no tomorrow, her long dark red hair obscuring his vision.

"Mum," the boy said embarrassed, not wanting the other students on the platform to see his mother act this way, "you'll see me in a few months."

Lily pulled away from him, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "I know," she said, "but I'm going to miss you, Harry. I've never gone this long without seeing you."

She kissed him again and held his head to her chest.

"Lily," James began, "you're going to make him miss the train. Besides, I need a turn."

Harry felt his mother nod her head as she pulled away from him, giving him some air. She took out a handkerchief from the pocket of her dark purple robe and dabbed her eyes.

Harry turned to hug his father and realized for the first time how pale James looked. In fact, his face had blanched so much that his hazel eyes were now illuminated to the fullest behind his glasses. Harry thought this made his father look quite handsome, but wasn't exactly sure if there was some underlying reason for it.

"Bye, Dad," he said, wrapping his arms around his father.

"Bye, Harry," James responded, returning his son's hug.

Harry let go of his father and then proceeded to grab his belongs, his trunk with one hand, and Hedwig's cage with the other. The owl hooted as she was picked up from the ground. Lily reached out and squeezed her son's shoulder one last time before he walked away.

"We love you!" was the last sentence Harry heard her say before getting on the train.

The walkway between each compartment door was very narrow and crowded, and the compartments seemed to be filling up faster than Harry could count. He finally found a vacant one near the very back of the train. Putting down his trunk and Hedwig, he looked out the window and could see Sirius and his parents still standing on the platform, talking and scanning the windows of the train, looking for Harry. He tapped on the window to get their attention, but the train was too noisy, the steam engine already blowing from its pipe.

Then, as the train began to move, Harry soon lost sight of them. Tears began to form behind his eyes, but he was afraid to shed them. After all, boys didn't cry, and he wasn't the only child going to a place without his or her parents for three months.

_Suck it up_, he commanded himself, turning away from the window and gently placing his fingers in Hedwig's cage, attempting to stroke her feathers.

The door opened abruptly, making Harry jump and his heart skip a beat. His fingers banged the bars of Hedwig's cage, making the owl squawk and spasm once again. The boy in the doorway apparently noticed all the commotion that he had caused because he apologized at least four times before he even stepped into the compartment. Harry recognized him as one of the redheaded children on the platform, the one who had looked at the train nervously.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" the boy asked, still looking very nervous. Harry noticed that the boy was much taller than himself and had many more freckles than Harry could see before. His nose was also rather long. "My brother kicked me out of his compartment because he said that it was only for _prefects_, and everywhere else was too crowded to let me in."

"Oh, sure," Harry agreed, smiling, realizing that having someone else to talk to wouldn't be a bad idea and would probably get his mind off his parents and Sirius.

"Thanks." The boy stepped into the compartment, carrying an old battered trunk and a cage with a tiny gray owl inside. Looking at the creature, Harry figured that it was no larger than the size of his fist. In fact, it looked much more like a ball of lint than it did an owl.

"I'm Ron. Ron Weasley," the boy said as he sat down in the seat across from Harry, extending his hand. "This is Pigwidgeon." He gestured to the tiny owl next to him. "My brother Bill gave him to me as a going-off-to-school present a couple weeks ago. I would have liked a bigger owl, you know, like yours, but my parents didn't have the money. So, Bill got me what he could afford, just so that I'd have something. We have another one, but he's not reliable at all. He practically faints whenever he has to fly two feet."

Ron sounded ashamed, his ears turning red.

"Well, I like him," Harry replied, trying to cheer the boy up. "He's nice."

Ron gave a small chuckle, one that told Harry that he didn't believe what Harry was telling him. "Thanks," he said.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said, realizing that he had not yet introduced himself.

"Harry Potter..." Ron repeated the name as though he had heard it somewhere before, but couldn't figure out exactly where. "Potter...Oh, Potter!" His eyes widened. "I know where I've heard that name. Someone named Potter had You-Know-Who killed in their house about ten years ago. Are you related?"

Now, it was Harry's turn to feel embarrassed. His stomach had tightened into a complete knot.

"Yeah," he replied slowly, not sure if he wanted to go into detail about the situation, "it was my house. I was a baby, so I don't remember it, but... Anyway, a guy who was supposed to be protecting our family turned out to be a traitor and had told V-I mean- You-Know-Who where we lived. So, one night, he came looking for us, attempting to kill us, but, the man who had given our information to him felt guilty and arrived at our house first to tell my parents that You-Know-Who was coming. When You-Know-Who got there, the guy decided to redeem himself and fight him, so he did. Unfortunately..." Harry paused, the knot in his stomach growing larger and migrating to his throat, "You-Know-Who wasn't the only one who died..."

"I'm sorry," Ron said, looking as though he meant it. The look in his eyes was sincere enough for Harry to believe him.

"It's all right," Harry answered, truly meaning it. Peter Pettigrew had been a troubled, wrongful man, but he had fully redeemed himself by admitting his sins and dying for those on whom he had brought terror.

Before Ron could reply, the compartment door opened again, revealing two people this time, a boy and a girl. The boy was a bit pudgy, with short brown hair, a round face, and large teeth. Harry jumped up and hugged him as he recognized who it was.

"Neville! How are you?" Harry asked as he released the boy.

Neville Longbottom was a day older than Harry, born on the thirtieth of July while Harry was born on the thirty-first. Both their parents had been great friends and had known each other for years before the boys were born. Unfortunately for Neville, he no longer lived with his parents, as both of them were confined to St. Mungo's Hospital after having been tortured to literal insanity by Voldemort's supporters many years before. As a result, he had lived with his paternal grandmother almost his entire life. However, his grandmother made no attempts to prevent the two boys from knowing each other. Ever since their second birthdays, they had celebrated every year together, having little parties with their families. Harry had even brought a photo album to school with him that was entitled _Harry and Neville Through the Years_, in which Lily had put together photos from every birthday party the two had had so far.

"I'm ok," Neville replied sadly, "but, I lost my toad, Trevor, and I've been looking for him this whole time. I was wondering if you guys had seen him?"

Harry turned to Ron, and they both shook their heads. "No, we haven't, Neville," Harry replied. "I hope you find him, though."

Neville sighed. "Thanks, Harry. Come on, Hermione," he said, addressing the girl next to him. "We'll try the next compartment. I hope I didn't leave him on the platform."

The girl nodded. She was about Harry's size, with bushy brown hair and teeth larger than Neville's.

"Sure," she said. Her voice sounded a bit sour, and she had an expression on her face that said she was just that: as sour as a lemon. She gave Harry and Ron an odd, arrogant look and stepped out of the compartment.

"See ya, Harry!" Neville called back before shutting the door.

"Good luck, Neville!" Harry said, returning to his seat.

"What's wrong with that girl?" Ron asked, still looking at the compartment door, as though the girl were still standing there.

"No idea," replied Harry, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe she ate a lemon. My mum ate a whole one once, and she looked just like that afterwards."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three-To Reverse A Mistake**

**Hey guys! Here's Chapter Three! I hope you all enjoy it. Please remember to review! The next chapter might be a while in coming, as I already wrote the first three a little while ago, but don't worry. I won't abandon this story. **

By the time the train reached Hogwarts, the sky had blackened completely, but neither Harry nor Ron had a watch to be able to tell what the exact time was.

"I hear there's a lot of good food at the feast," said Ron, looking as though food were the only thing on his mind at the moment.

Harry couldn't blame him. Even though they had ordered Chocolate Frogs and pumpkin pasties from the trolley cart a few hours ago, those foods had not held the two boys out for very long. It was time for some real nourishment.

Harry's stomach growled loudly as he thought of this.

But, his hunger was soon forgotten and replaced by excitement when he heard the doors of the train opening and students talking loudly. He and Ron both grabbed their trunks and owls, attempting to head out into the walkway. Unfortunately, once they got to the door, they realized that they couldn't open it on account of the crowd on the other side.

"Hurry up and get off, already!" Ron shouted, banging on the door's glass window.

The large boy standing outside the door didn't take kindly to Ron's demand. He had short brown hair and an arm that swung like a Beater's bat. Within a second, he had punched the glass, causing Ron to yelp in fright. Harry was afraid that the glass might shatter. There was no telling what would have happened if it had.

Harry figured that the glass had some sort of spell on it that prevented it from breaking because all it did when the boy hit it was vibrate for a second. The architects of the train must have expected students to act like this.

The large boy gave Ron an evil smirk and walked passed the door as the students finally began to file off the train. As he did so, Harry noticed the boy who was walking in front of him. It was Draco Malfoy, the pale blond boy who had laughed at Harry in Madam Malkins' robe shop.

_He better not be in my House_, Harry thought, believing whole-heartedly that Malfoy should be put in Slytherin and hoping that he indeed would be. _He deserves it. _

Slytherin, after all, was the House where evil Dark wizards were put. According to Lily and James, barely anyone who was in Slytherin ever came out a respectable witch or wizard. Sirius's entire family, apart from himself, had been in Slytherin, and all of them, save his cousin Andromeda, practiced Dark magic; and all of them had allied themselves with Voldemort.

Finally, after what seemed like ten minutes, enough people had gone by so that Harry and Ron could open their compartment door and exit the train. Once they had alighted the steam engine, they saw a giant man with bushy matted black hair and beard in front of them. He was holding a lantern and had a large black boarhound drooling at his side.

"Everyone leave yer belongin's right where they are!" he shouted in a big, booming voice over the crowd of students. His dog let out a bark, as if it were trying to help emphasize to the students that they needed to leave their belongings behind.

"Firs' years follow me!" the large man continued. With a motion of his large hand, he beckoned the students to follow him as he walked down the long stone pathway, his slobbery dog trudging beside him.

"I wonder where we're going?" Ron muttered to Harry as they walked with the rest of the first years, "and I hope we get our stuff back soon. I forgot to feed Pigwidgeon before we got off the train."

"Why didn't you feed him an hour ago when I was feeding Hedwig?" Harry asked. "I told you to."

"I didn't feel like it," Ron replied sheepishly. Harry could see his cheeks turning red again, something Harry took as being a sign of either embarrassment or shame. "My stomach was still too full of sweets for me to do anything."

A few minutes later, the large man stopped the first years in front of what appeared to be a lake. The water was as smooth as glass with the lack of wind, and it looked almost black in the dark. On top of the lake, Harry could see many little boats, presumably ones that would take the first years to Hogwarts. He squinted his eyes, attempting to look beyond the lake and catch a glimpse of the castle, but there was nothing but a starry night sky in front of him.

"No more than four to a boat!" the giant man boomed. He and his dog had already gotten into one and were taking up the entire watercraft by themselves.

Harry felt Ron nudge his elbow. The redhead was pointing to a boat near them that was perched on the edge of the lake.

"Let's grab it before all the close ones are taken," he said. "I would hate to have to walk out into the water and get into one."

Harry agreed, and the two of them quickly stepped into the boat. The inside was much larger than it had looked from the outside, and the wood was smooth and polished, which was far from what Harry had expected. He had never been on a boat before, but with all the pictures of them that he had seen, he made the assumption that all boats and ships were rough and splintery and smelled like the sea.

"Hey Harry, wait!"

Harry turned around at the sound of his name and noticed Neville hurrying towards the boat, as though he were afraid he would be left behind, even though there were plenty of boats to choose from.

"Hey Neville," Harry replied as soon as his friend had reached the boat.

"Can I ride with you two?" The chubby boy asked.

"Of course," Harry assured him. Ron didn't seem to mind, either. In fact, he hadn't even seemed to notice Neville because he was too busy watching Hermione, the sour girl from the train, as she tried repeatedly to get into one of the boats farther out into the water. Her robes were soaked, as she had slipped several times, and Ron was laughing hysterically.

Neville hopped into the boat with much more agility than Harry thought he possessed. Once he sat down, Harry noticed that he was holding something that was squirming in his hands.

"You found Trevor!" Harry said enthusiastically.

"Yeah." Neville nodded, sounding a bit embarrassed. "It turns out that he was hiding in one of the luggage carts out in the walkway of the train. I feel bad because I should have brought something to put him in, you know, like maybe a cage or a tank, but he always looks so unhappy in them. So, I thought I'd carry him freely, but I guess that was a dumb idea."

Secretly, Harry agreed that it was indeed a dumb idea, but he couldn't say so in front of his friend.

"Well, at least you got him back," was all Harry thought would be appropriate to say.

"Yeah," Neville said, looking down at his toad. Trevor was large and brownish-green with more warts than Harry had ever seen on any creature.

Finally, the giant man gave everyone the signal to start rowing across the lake. Harry took the oars first and soon discovered that paddling was much harder than it looked. Then, seeing how much trouble Harry was having, Ron took control, but didn't do much better. When Neville tried it, however, their boat started turning in the opposite direction. It took about five minutes for the boat to move the right way again, and by that time, Harry, Ron, and Neville were behind the rest of the boats.

After what seemed to be ten minutes, the three boys (and Trevor) were finally far along the lake so that they could see Hogwarts castle. It was the most magnificent building Harry had ever laid his eyes on. There were large stone towers overlooking a vast stretch of land and an enormous forest. Lights were shining out of almost every window, although there was no need for them, as the stars were so bright.

As they had predicted, the three boys were the last ones to reach the other side of the lake, and apparently, the rest of the first years were having to endure waiting for them because they all looked very annoyed and impatient as Harry, Ron, and Neville got out of their boat.

The giant man, however, seemed to take no notice of the students' displeasure (nor did he seem to have any himself) regarding the three late boys and happily gestured for all of them to follow him toward the castle gates. Once the students were inside the castle, all of them were amazed at the magnificence of the foyer. Moving paintings aligned each wall and there was a beautiful marble staircase leading to the upper levels of the building. At the bottom of these stairs, a tall, thin woman with jet-black hair tied in a bun and square spectacles around her eyes was watching the students.

"Firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the giant man said to the woman at the bottom of the stairs.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she replied, nodding slightly. "I will take them from here." She turned to the students and addressed them. "Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is Professor McGonagall, and I am the Deputy Headmistress of this school. It will be my pleasure to be Sorting you tonight."

With that, she beckoned for the students to follow her up the stairs. Unfortunately, upon taking his first step onto the stairs, Neville tripped on his long robes and let go of Trevor, who began croaking noisily and attempted to flee from his master by running underneath the robes of each of the students. They all screamed in terror. Well, all of them expect Draco Malfoy, who simply laughed at the other students. Professor McGonagall, however, was not amused.

"_Imobulus_!" she shouted sternly, pointing her wand at the toad as soon as he was in view.

Instantly as the yellow light touched him, Trevor froze in a leaping position. Professor McGonagall looked at Neville sternly and pointed at the toad, signaling for the boy to pick him up. Neville did as he was told and scampered back to his spot next to Harry and Ron. Harry could see him shaking slightly, Trevor still motionless in his hands.

Without another word, McGonagall motioned for the students to continue up the stairs. Finally, they reached the top and came to two large wooden doors. McGonagall cleared her throat.

"This is the entrance to the Great Hall," she began. "In a few moments, you will walk through these doors and be Sorted into your Houses in which you shall remain for your seven years here. Now, there are four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each one is unique in its own way and encompasses brilliant students. As such, _no House is better or more important than any other_."

She said the last sentence as though she were threatening the students to boast about a particular House. Harry thought he saw her glance for a moment in Draco Malfoy's direction.

"At the end of each year," she continued smoothly, "one House will be awarded the House Cup for the most points earned for both academic achievement and good behavior shown by its students. Any rule-breaking, and points will be deducted."

She was silent for a moment, staring out into the sea of fresh eyes, and then began to speak again. "Now, it is time for the Sorting."

As Professor McGonagall opened the doors to the room, a loud cheer erupted from the other side. Harry could tell by the way that this cheering was carried out that the older students were desperate to get the Sorting over with, which meant they must have been waiting for the first years to come in for quite some time.

The Great Hall had to be one of the most beautiful places Harry had ever seen. Four long tables full of students ran parallel to each other. There were decorations on the walls and banners to represent each House. Candles were floating in midair above the tables, illuminating the entire room. However, Harry thought the most fascinating aspect of the room was the ceiling, or the lack of it, as there seemed to be no ceiling at all. Instead, there were bright stars, the same as the ones outside, where the ceiling should have been.

"It's bewitched, the ceiling," Harry heard the unmistakable voice of the girl Hermione say to someone behind him. "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_. It was a very good book, one of my favorites, I should say."

As the students walked up to the front of the Hall, Professor McGonagall stopped in front of a long table that was perpendicular to the student ones. Harry soon realized that this was the staff table, where all the teachers sat. He noticed Remus Lupin sitting on the far right and smiled at him, a smile Remus returned.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and motioned for one of the older students standing off to the side. At her order, he brought forth a three-legged stool and a patched up old hat, one of the ugliest that Harry had ever seen. He couldn't imagine anyone having the guts to wear it in public.

"Now, when I call your name," Professor McGonagall said, holding up a scroll, "you will come forth and place the Sorting Hat on your head, and it will determine which House you are to be in for the next seven years."

Harry felt butterflies go spastic in the pit of his stomach. What would everyone say if he weren't sorted into Gryffindor like the rest of his family? What if the Hat put him in _Slytherin_?

"Abbott, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall called the first name on the scroll. A blonde girl with pigtails responded and, in the same fashion as Neville, tripped over her robes, causing her to fall on top of the stool. Once she was firmly situated, McGonagall placed the Hat on her head.

A few seconds later, the Hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" and the table directly on the right of the first years let out a cheer as Hannah went over to join them.

Harry zoned out for a while, thinking only about the consequences of the Hat placing him in any other House besides Gryffindor. He was sure his parents would be upset, even though they had never actually discussed their son's going into _any _particular House. All they had said was that they had both been in Gryffindor and had dropped the subject at that, saying nothing about what House would be best for Harry. Of course, there was probably a reason for that, the most likely one being, in Harry's opinion, that if they started talking about Houses and which one would suit Harry, then what would happen would probably be the exact opposite of what they had expected, resulting in Harry's being in a House that they would not approve of.

"Granger, Hermione!" McGonagall's voice suddenly brought Harry from his thoughts.

The sassy, buck-toothed girl was walking up toward the stool eagerly, looking as though she were going to jam the hat onto her head. Harry noticed that the bottoms of her robes were still wet from the lake.

The Hat barely touched her head when its "face" split into a smile and shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Hermione hopped off the stool and hurried over to the table on the far left. Beside Harry, Ron had groaned when the Hat had placed Hermione in Gryffindor, but he soon began to snicker when he noticed that her bushy hair was bouncing up and down behind her like a balloon as she ran over to the Gryffindor table to join his three brothers.

Then, about twelve students later, "Longbottom, Neville" was called. Harry glanced over at his friend and saw the other boy's eyes close as he took a deep breath, but didn't seem to want to move.

"Come on, Neville," Harry whispered urgently, "you're holding everyone up. It'll be fine."

Harry could tell Professor McGonagall was just about to call the next person's name when Neville nervously stepped out of line, still clutching his immobile toad. McGonagall did not look pleased as she placed the Hat on Neville's frightened head; and yet, the displeasure further mounted in her face as it took approximately three minutes for the Hat to decide where to put Neville. Several students were tapping their toes in impatience, while Ron bit his nails absentmindedly. Some of the teachers even looked annoyed. One of them, a sallow-skinned man with greasy black hair sitting next to Remus, had a look on his face that said he was threatening to throw his goblet at Neville's head to speed up the time.

Finally, the Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" and McGonagall shooed Neville off the stool as though he were a fly.

When Draco Malfoy's name was called, the cocky boy did exactly what Harry had expected him to do: he strutted up to the Hat and placed it on his head as though it were a crown that officially made him King of the "Pure-bloods". Predictably, the Hat placed him in Slytherin, just as he seemed to have wanted, for he jumped off the stool and cheered louder than any other student in the room.

After about twenty minutes, Harry's name was finally called. Harry looked straight ahead of himself as he walked, ignoring the looks from everyone else in the room. Sitting cautiously on the stool, he gripped the bottom with both hands and took a deep breath, hoping that it would make time go faster. As soon as the Hat touched his head, a tiny voice whispered into his ear.

"Hmm..." the voice began, "very interesting...you are clever, cunning, and talented. Someone with your brain would do well in Slytherin..."

Harry closed his eyes tightly and gasped. His heart dropped to the floor.

"Yet," the Hat continued before Harry could even get a thought out, "you are very courageous and extremely loyal. Slytherin is not the place for someone with a heart like yours. You would do better in GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry let out a scream that echoed throughout the entire room. He couldn't move. He was in far too much shock. As the Hat was pulled off his head, Harry felt himself sweating and trembling. McGonagall tapped him on the shoulder and told him to go to the table. He shook his head in disbelief and was finally able to stand up. He couldn't believe it. The Hat had put him in Gryffindor!

He hopped over to the seat next to Neville and gave him a long hug.

"You did it, Harry!" Neville said happily. "I knew you'd be in Gryffindor. If the Hat put me in it, I knew it would put you, too."

Thirty minutes later, Ronald Weasley plopped himself down beside Harry.

"I had a feeling I'd be in Gryffindor," the redhead explained. "My whole family's been in it, as you could probably tell. I couldn't imagine going anywhere else."

As Ron continued to chatter, the Sorting soon ended, and the feast began. All sorts of food appeared on the table: roast duck and chicken, lamb, pork, steak, mashed potatoes, carrots, green beans, corn, celery, tomatoes, every type of food anyone could imagine. Harry grabbed a little bit of everything (or as much as he could fit on his plate) and began chowing down. His mother had always made excellent food, but never as much as this, except of course, on special occasions, like Christmas and Easter.

As they ate, all the children began talking about topics ranging from sports to families. Neville started a conversation by telling everyone about the time on his eighth birthday when he got his head stuck in a gnome hole. Harry couldn't help but laugh, as he remembered the incident vividly. He had tried to pull Neville out himself, but the other boy was far too heavy. So, he had made the decision to go for help, but had gotten lost about halfway back to Neville's house (the two had snuck out of the house and had been walking in the forest, looking for trolls). When he finally got back and told Lily and Neville's grandmother where Neville was and what they had been doing, he was scolded rather embarrassingly. Neville had the advantage for at least five minutes of being stuck in the hole and wasn't scolded until after his grandmother had gotten him free.

Seamus Finnigan, an Irish boy, explained to everyone how his father was a Muggle and his mother was a witch, and how his mother had not told her husband what she was until after they were married. Yet, they were still a happy couple living in Dublin. Then, switching topics rather abruptly, Seamus began talking about his least favorite person on the planet: Viktor Krum, the Seeker for the Bulgarian National Quidditch team.

Thirty minutes after the main course meal, desserts appeared. There was ice cream of every flavor imaginable, strawberry, pumpkin, cherry, and apple pies, chocolate and carrot cake, more pumpkin pasties, banana pudding, and Jell-O with whipped cream, the latter Ron tried to take all for himself.

When the desserts disappeared fifteen minutes later, the Headmaster of the school rose to the podium and began his speech. His name was Albus Dumbledore, and from what Harry could tell of him, he seemed to be at least one hundred and fifty years old. He had a long white beard that was so long it could be tucked into his belt if he wanted it to be, and his nose was crooked, as though it had been broken rather violently at one time in his life. His light blue eyes were radiant and surrounded by half-moon-shaped spectacles.

"Good evening," he began in a soft voice. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Before the students head off to bed, there are a few start-of-term notices that I wish to announce. First, Mr. Filch, the caretaker, would like me to remind you to stay away from the Forbidden Forest. Second, pranks involving the tampering of food will _not _be tolerated this year or any proceeding."

Harry thought he heard Ron's twin brothers snicker somewhere along the table, but Dumbledore continued his speech without notice.

"Anyone who is found tampering with any edible item will be given a month's detention," he said. "That is it for the announcements. You may all retire to your rooms."

As the students got up to leave, Harry asked Ron, "Did your brothers have anything to do with the food-tampering thing?"

"Most likely," Ron replied. "Mum received more owls about their pranks last year than all the other mothers combined. I'm sure they had _something _to do with it. Although, I doubt it was that harmful. They'd never intentionally hurt anyone unless they really deserved it."

The first year Gryffindors followed the rest of their House to a high tower. The main prefect leading them (who just happened to be Ron's older brother, Percy) stopped in front of a large portrait of a fat woman in a pink dress. The woman looked at him and asked calmly, "Password?"

Percy replied, "_Capetch draconus_."

The portrait swung open, revealing a very large room draped in scarlet and gold colors. There were squishy chairs and couches scattered about the room and in front of the stone fireplace. Percy led the students inside and began talking.

"This is the Gryffindor common room," he explained. "Girls' dormitories are on your right, and the boys' dormitories are on your left. Your belongings have already been brought up. Breakfast is served at seven o'clock every morning and classes begin at eight. Now, go to bed."

The last sentence was very abrupt and left Ron scowling. "I hate him," he said angrily.

When Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, and a fifth boy named Dean Thomas reached their rooms, all of them were amazed. There were five magnificent mahogany four-poster beds waiting for them, each with scarlet and gold hangings and sheets. Harry found his trunk over near bed next to the window, which he thought was probably the best spot he could get. Now, he was able to look out and easily see the whole grounds. He couldn't wait to get up and write to his parents in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four-To Reverse A Mistake**

**Hey guys! Here's Chapter Four! Please leave a review and thanks to everyone who has done so and favorited/followed this story so far. I hope you continue to enjoy it.**

The next morning, the Gryffindors headed downstairs to a smorgasbord of a breakfast with pancakes, sausage, eggs, oatmeal, and a variety of pastries and toast. Harry piled as much as he could on his plate before sitting down.

"Ick, we have Potions class first," said Ron as he looked at the Gryffindor first years' schedule. "Everyone says Snape is the meanest teacher in the whole school. Apparently, he's really rude and unfair and likes the Slytherins the most."

"When he chooses to like anyone at all," Fred cut in from the opposite side of the table.

"Which one is Snape?" Harry asked, looking up from his plate to take a look at the Head Table, where the professors were seated.

"He's the one with the really nasty skin and hair, the one talking to Lupin" said George, shoving an egg in his mouth and pointing. Harry recognized Snape as the sallow-skinned man from last night who had looked as though he were about to throw his goblet at Neville. The man wasn't looking at him, but was instead in what looked to be a heated conversation with Remus Lupin, who looked more annoyed than afraid of him. Nevertheless, Harry made a note not to get on Snape's bad side. Little did he know that he was already on that list.

"Don't point!" said Neville as he shoved oatmeal in his mouth nervously. "He'll see you!"

"I don't care," said George. "He's given me so many detentions I've lost count."

"Haven't all the teachers?" Fred chuckled.

After breakfast, the first-year Gryffindors headed to the castle's dungeon, which was freezing cold and had very little lighting. Harry, Ron, and Neville took a seat at the front of the class, just to make sure they wouldn't miss hearing anything. Snape finally came in, his black robes billowing behind him, making him look like a large bat flapping its wings. He was followed closely by the first-year Slytherins. Harry noticed Draco Malfoy take a seat in front of the cauldron across from him.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," Snape began, surveying the students. His eyes stopped on Harry and he sneered. Great, Harry thought. A teacher that already hated him on the first day, and for no reason at all. "Potion-making, unlike the other subjects you will be studying at Hogwarts, is an _art, _and it is an art that I doubt many of you—if any at all—will be able to accomplish."

There was a pause and Snape continued. Once again, his cold eyes were on Harry, who felt a chill running down his spine as the professor's black eyes narrowed. "Nonetheless, I will attempt to teach you what I know. How to bewitch the mind, ensnare the senses, bottle fame, and brew glory." There was silence as Snape walked around the room, looking at each student individually. Harry could feel his eyes on him again as he walked passed.

"The first thing we are going to do is brew a batch of a Draught of Living Death, which can be found on page ten of your book. The ingredients can be found on this shelf," he gestured behind him, "and if I hear anyone _talking _during this assignment, he or she will get detention."

Harry gulped. He just remembered that he had forgotten his book! It was still in the brown parchment packaging it had come in whenever he bought it, upstairs in his dormitory. He only hoped Ron or Neville had theirs. He took his quill out of his bag and tried to write a note on his Transfiguration book, but the ink smudged. Maybe if he just mouthed what he needed….

"Can I borrow your book?" he moved his lips as soon as Ron caught his eye.

"Detention Potter and Weasley!" Snape shouted. It was remarkable how he knew their names. He hadn't even taken roll call yet.

But, something else was more obvious: it was that Snape had been watching Harry's moves from the get go. Why, though? Harry had to wonder. How could a professor hate him so much without even knowing him?

Snape stood in front of them, towering over them like a black pillar. "You will both serve detention in my office today at five, and you can be certain that I will be writing a strongly-worded letter to your parents. You are also both _failing _this assignment."

Harry and Ron looked at each other, mouths open, when suddenly, a large boom went off behind them. Seamus Finnigan had apparently used too much of one ingredient because his face was covered in ash.

"Thomas, take him to the hospital wing!" Snape shouted to Dean, who nodded. All the Slytherins were snickering.

Urgh, so much was going wrong already that Harry couldn't believe it. However, when the class let out, it was time for Defense Against the Dark Arts, which Harry was very excited about because Remus Lupin was teaching it.

It took the Gryffindor students quite a while to reach the classroom, though, as it was on the second floor, and they probably would have been late had it not been for Hermione Granger, who had a map to the entire castle.

Remus Lupin, a thin, pale man with more scratches across his face than Harry could count, was sitting at his desk, smiling. Even though he was only thirty-one years old, his light brown hair was already flecked with gray.

"Good morning," he said happily as the students entered and hurriedly took their seats. They didn't want to risk any more scolding from teachers, even though Harry knew Remus to be a very likeable person."I was beginning to wonder if you would show up." He laughed lightly.

Unlike Snape, who had driven right into an activity (which, none of the students save Hermione had actually succeeded at completing properly), Remus gave an introduction of the course for the entirety of the class. He explained what they would be doing and studying, how they would be doing it, and all the goals they would be meeting with each of their assignments. He even explained his own personal pedagogy to the class, which had everything to do with inspiring students to succeed. It was obvious that he had true confidence in every one of them, something that Harry was glad to hear about after his experience with Snape.

"I believe all students have the ability to succeed," Remus said with a smile, "and I will do everything in my power to help all of you do so."

And apparently, the other Gryffindors were just as happy as Harry to hear that, because half of them, including Neville and Ron, cheered.

After Defense Against the Dark Arts, there was Herbology out in the greenhouse. Getting there turned out to be an even bigger adventure than getting to Defense, as halfway through the students' walk, it began to rain, ruining Hermione's map, which caused the children to venture as far as the edge of the Forbidden Forest. When they finally found the greenhouse, they were about ten minutes late for class. Their teacher was Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff House. She was a short, plump woman with dirt all over her face and robes. Upon finally seeing the Gryffindor students arriving, she rebuked them for not finding their way around faster (as the Hufflepuffs were already there), but didn't dwell on the fact. Like Snape, she dove right into an "activity" for them after a brief explanation of the course, although the activity turned out to be a lecture on plants that Harry had never heard of and could care less about. Neville, on the other hand, appeared to enjoy it, as he was scribbling down notes so fast that he ran out of ink for his quill.

After lunch, came Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. She began her class by scaring the living daylights out of everyone after transforming into a cat and back again. Harry couldn't help but snicker afterwards, as he wasn't at all unfamiliar with Animagi, his father and godfather being them themselves (a stag and a dog, respectively.) She then gave the students an example of what Transfiguration entailed when she turned her desk into a pig and back again. Harry thought that, after Defense Against the Dark Arts, this class would probably be the most fun.

When five o'clock rolled around, Harry and Ron founded themselves in front of Snape's classroom. Snape glared at them, his long, hooked nose upturned and his black eyes flashing in anger.

"Your task will be to clean each one of these cauldrons," he said as he opened the door to the classroom. The cauldrons were stacked in the far corner of the room. Ron groaned.

"No talking!" Snape shouted, "or else you'll be given another detention tomorrow."

And to be sure they didn't talk, Snape stayed in the classroom, grading essays that had been assigned to the older students over the summer. Harry felt like a prisoner.

%^%^

It was nearing eight o'clock in the morning when Lily received two very different owls at her kitchen window the next day. She was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of tea and eating a piece of toast with jam when the flapping occurred. James was upstairs getting ready for work.

The first round of flapping came from a handsome tawny-colored owl with a very noticeable Hogwarts seal on the letter. In fact, had the owl not been carrying a letter, its healthy and superior look that it was giving her would have given it away that it was a Hogwarts owl anyway. Lily couldn't image what the letter could have said, unless (and she couldn't help but smirk and role her eyes at the thought) her son had fallen in his father's footsteps and decided to pull a beginning-of-the-year prank. Harry's youth was full of stories from James and Sirius (and occasionally Remus, when he chose to admit that he'd had a part in something) about their adventures at Hogwarts, and there was no doubt in Lily's mind that he wanted to be just like them. But, this early in the year? What kind of prank could he have possible done the day after school began? Oh, he must have been planning this one for months, and with his father's help.

She shook her head, half of her not wanting to find out what her son did, the other half very curious as to what it could be, and rose from her seat to open the window. She pushed a lock of straight red hair behind her ears and undid the latch, letting in the very proper owl. It hooted in greeting as it handed her the letter.

"Thank you," she replied, as if it were a person. She turned the letter over top look at the front, and sure enough, the writing read "To Mr. and Mrs. Potter, very urgent." She clicked her tongue between her teeth as she undid the seal.

_Oh, Harry James_, she thought, _I better not be getting many of these. _But, somehow, she knew her hoping was futile.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Potter, _the letter read,

_I have the displeasure of informing you that your son, Harry James Potter, received detention from me last night as punishment for talking out of turn during my class. If this behavior continues, I will have no choice but to notify the Headmaster. However, to insure that your son does not in fact persist with this behavior, I would like to schedule a conference with you some time in the next few days. I would like to discuss my concerns with you personally. Thank you for your time and please remember to respond._

_Yours Sincerely,_

And Lily had to blink when she read the name,

_Professor Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House, Potions Master_

She had to admit: she was greatly offended by this letter. This was by no means the first letter she had received from Severus Snape in the past ten years. She had always known, ever since her days as a child living in Cokeworth down the street from him, that Severus Snape harbored romantic feelings for her. But, as she had never returned these feelings, she had chosen to ignore him and all of his letters, begging her to meet with him. She had forgiven him years ago for calling her a Mudblood and all of his dealings with the Dark Arts once she learned he had been serving Dumbledore, but that didn't mean she wanted to actually meet with him. She felt uneasy at the thought, knowing his feelings for her. She had hoped that he would some day take a hint and move on with his life. But this letter further proved that he had not. A conference? Please. She rolled her eyes, this time in a bit of anger and frustration. She knew all Severus wanted to do in that "conference" was get closer to her, and that was something she wouldn't allow. However, she also wouldn't allow his bullying of her son, which this incident could have only been. For one thing, Harry was not one to "talk out of turn" towards his elders, especially his teachers. She always knew that with James's looks combined with Harry's very existence, which was symbolic of Lily's preference for another man, that her son could potentially be a target of Severus's bullying. She had not prepared him for it, though, as she hadn't wanted to frighten him before going off to school. Well, that was partially the reason for not letting him know. In fact, she had hoped that it wouldn't be of any issue, that she could just ignore it and everything would be ok. Yet, now that it was a reality, she had to do something about it, and unfortunately, that meant confronting Severus. She was only glad that he had been professional enough to address both "_Mister_" and "Missus" Potter, and thus had given leeway to invite James to the conference, as he only had to, of course.

At that moment, James walked into the kitchen, dressed in his Auror robes and looking paler than Lily would have liked.

"What is it?" he asked her, clearly seeing the look on her face.

She didn't say anything. She simply turned the letter around to show him. He could read it himself.

"So what do we do?" she asked him once he had read the entire thing. She could see the anger and hatred in James's eyes, but he was trying greatly to suppress it. For years, he had tried to let go of his hatred of Severus, knowing that hatred wouldn't do any good. After almost fourteen years of being away from Severus, he had had time to cool down and rethink his actions. He knew better than to live in hatred. He had _matured _beyond that, something Severus had obviously not done.

That was the fundamental difference between James and Severus.

"We do as he says," James replied, putting the letter down on the table. "We meet with him and give him a piece of our mind."

She nodded. "Alright." She knew her husband was right. That was what they had to do.

The next owl to arrive was Hedwig, of course, her snowy white form a beautiful silhouette in the window. Lily knew that this was Harry complaining about Severus. She opened the window to allow the bird entrance and took the parchment that was tied to her leg.

Sure enough, when she opened the letter, it read:

_Mum, Dad! You guys aren't going to believe this, but my Potions teacher gave me detention! I didn't even do anything! I hope this letter reaches you before his does, but even if it doesn't, believe me! I didn't do anything. If he says I was talking, I wasn't. It was _mouthing _something to one of my classmates because I forgot my book and wanted to know if I could use his. Don't listen to anything he says. Anyway, love you guys! Tell Sirius I miss him!_

_Harry_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five-To Reverse A Mistake**

**Hey guys! Thanks again to everyone! I really appreciate it. Please keep the reviews coming!**

It took Harry and Ron five hours to clean out every single cauldron, and Ron was complaining the entire way back to the common room.

"The nerve of that guy," he kept saying as they walked. "Having us do that. It was the most disgusting thing ever. I could have sworn I was wiping up vomit rather than potion. Honestly, I'd rather get expelled than have to do something like that again."

"It wasn't that bad," said Harry. "Imagine if you had to clean up real vomit."

It was obvious that Ron had never done any hard labor before. Come to think of it, Harry really hadn't, either, besides washing dishes for his mother, but he wasn't one to complain openly, at least not to a fellow classmate. Now, his parents. That was a different story. He would certainly be complaining about it to _them, _especially since Snape had singled him out.

When they got back to the dormitory, Neville, Dean, and Seamus were playing Gobstones (a game similar to marbles, except when a player loses, balls squirt a putrid liquid) in the middle of the floor.

"How was it?" asked Neville nervously. "He didn't make you do anything really harsh, did he?"

"Yeah, he did," said Ron. "It was brutal."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm going to bed," he said, looking at the clock on the wall and yawning. It was already passed ten. "See you guys in the morning."

The next morning at breakfast, Harry received a letter from his mother.

_Dear Harry,_

_Your father and I are going to have a talk with Professor Snape. Just try to ignore him as much as you can and we'll handle it,_

_Love you,_

_Mum_

Harry honestly didn't know what to think. Half of him was surprised that his mother wasn't angry at him for getting detention on his first day, and the other half was surprised the letter mentioned nothing about her planning to pummel Snape to ash. Then again, this was Lily, and she was always calm and collected about whatever she did. On the other hand, if James had written the letter, there was no telling what he could have written.

At any rate, the letter he received was a thousand times better than what Ron got. Pigwidgeon came flapping into the Great Hall with a Howler, a red envelope that explodes after a screeching message in the sender's voice, tied to his legs. Ron took one look at it and dove underneath the table.

"It's not that bad," said George.

"Yeah," said Fred. "We get them a few times a week." He grabbed the Howler from Pigwidgeon and opened it.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!" It screamed in his mother's voice, "HOW DARE YOU GET DETENTION ON THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL! IF THAT EVERY HAPPENS AGAIN, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!"

"It's not that big of a deal," said George again, biting off a piece of bacon. "I don't know why she would waste a Howler on something as mundane as detention. I mean, it's not like you drove a flying car into a tree or anything."

"Then again, it is your first one," said Fred. "And you're her Ickle Ronniekins. She probably thinks you should know better than to follow in our footsteps." He said that last bit sarcastically.

Suddenly, another owl arrived. It was a large back one with a yellow beak.

"Bleeker!" shouted Neville. "What are you doing here?" The black owl nipped Neville's finger affectionately and dropped a small package in front of him.

"What's that?" asked Ron.

"No idea," said Neville. "I haven't opened it yet." He took the package, waved good-bye to Bleeker, and tore off the brown parchment. Inside the box was a small orb, about the size of Neville's fist, with smoke on the inside.

"Whoa," said Seamus, who was perched on Neville's left. "Is that a Remembrall?"

"Yes," said Hermione matter-of-factly. She was sitting across from Neville, munching on a piece of toast. "I've read about them. When the smoke turns red, it means you've forgotten something."

Instantly, as if on command, the smoke turned a deep scarlet.

"The only problem is, I can't remember what I've forgotten," said Neville.

After breakfast, it was time for Charms. The teacher for this class was Professor Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw House, a very short man who had to stand on a pile of books behind his desk to see everyone. Like Professor Lupin, Flitwick gave an explanation of his pedagogy to the class, which was very non-inclusive of all the students, as he believed that to cast a charm properly, one had to have the right mindset. Obviously, not everyone had that, as was demonstrated by Seamus, who created yet another explosion when instructed to cast _Wingardium Leviosa, _the levitation charm, on feathers.

Hermione, on the other hand, had the talent for everything, it seemed, because her feather was the first to float upward successfully. Of course, though, as Harry knew, with great talent came great pride and a tendency for bossiness.

"You're saying it _wrong,_" Harry heard the bushy-haired girl say to Ron from down the table. "It's '_Wingaaaardium Leviosa.' _Make the 'gar' nice and long. Don't put all the emphasis on the 'sa' part."

"I know what I'm doing," said Ron. "I've seen my mum cast this charm many times."

"Oh, really? Then why aren't you successful now?" she asked sarcastically. "Just because your mum can do something doesn't mean you can. You have to _practice_. You can't just learn by sight."

As mean as it was, Hermione's statement was true. Lily was excellent at charms herself, but that didn't mean Harry was. His feather hadn't even flinched yet.

"I can do it," said Ron irritably. "Leave me alone."

But, by the end of the class, Ron still was unsuccessful, but Flitwick was generous and gave him an "A" for "Acceptable" just for trying.

The next class the students had was Flying out in the Courtyard, with Madam Hooch. She was a tall woman with short, gray hair and yellow eyes like a hawk that scared the crap out of Harry, but he was too happy to dwell on it. Flying was one of his favorite things to do, and couldn't wait to have his own broom.

"Good afternoon, class," she said once they had lined up in front of the broomsticks, which were not to Harry's liking at all. They were splintered and unkempt with twigs sticking out at every angle, and some of them had barely any twigs left. Across from him, Harry spotted Draco Malfoy, whose broom appeared to be covered in mold.

_Glad I don't have that broom, _Harry thought.

"Now, when I say so, take hold of your brooms and say 'up.' Can you all do that?"

Everyone nodded. Harry was ready. This was going to be fun.

"Now, one, two, three, go!" Madam Hooch said.

"Up," Harry said as soon as his fingers touched his broom, and it jumped off the ground. Yes! This was a great start. But, as he looked around at everyone else, he realized that his broom was practically the only one that had done as commanded. Hermione's had rolled over, and Neville's and Ron's had remained on the ground, not moving a muscle. Malfoy's had come up and hit him in the face, and Hannah Abbott's had shot backward, across the field.

"Up, up up!" shouted Ron frantically. "Stupid broom. Why won't you move?" 

"Up!" shouted Harry, wanting to help his friend with his troubles. As soon as the word came out of Harry's mouth, Ron's broom moved. In fact, it flew up and hit Ron straight in the forehead.

"OUCH!" he screamed, massaging his head.

"Sorry," said Harry, trying to suppress a laugh.

"Shut up," said Ron.

Beside Harry, Neville was still trying to get his to move.

"UP! UP! UP!" he shouted in the loudest voice he could muster. Finally, after about two minutes, the broom shot upward and Neville barely caught it. Unfortunately, it didn't stop there. It kept moving, carrying Neville upward toward the sky.

"Mr. Longbottom!" shouted Madam Hooch. "Come down here this instant!"

But, Neville was not in control. His broom carried him up past the Astronomy Tower, over the trees of the Forbidden Forest, beyond the Quidditch field, and then swooped him back toward the castle, depositing him on a statue. He screamed as his robes ripped and he fell to the ground, his Remembrall falling out of his pocket.

Everyone ran toward him, but Madam Hooch ordered them all to stay at a distance.

"Everyone stand back," she said as she approached the crying boy. Harry could see that his wrist was stuck out at an odd angle and was already beginning to swell.

Madam Hooch took hold of Neville's wrist gingerly and examined it. "It's broken," she said. "Everyone stay on the ground while I take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. If there's one broom in the air when I get back, that person will receive detention for a week."

Once Neville and Madam Hooch were out of sight, Draco Malfoy picked up Neville's Remembrall and brandished it.

"Look at this!" the blond boy smirked. "Maybe if the fat lob had given this a squeeze, he'd remember the fall in his fat arse."

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry ordered. He wasn't about to stand by and watch Malfoy taunt his friend in any way.

"Come and get it, Potter!" the boy mocked and grabbed his broomstick. He was soon up in the air, flying over the castle.

Harry grabbed his broom and flew upward, ignoring the protests of the other students, especially Hermione, who was going over the top about how Madam Hooch would probably go so far to expel him once she found out. He just rolled his eyes.

It was obvious that he had had more training than Malfoy, who was wobbling on his broomstick. The Slytherin boy's broom bucked up and down in the air. If Harry hadn't been angry, he would have laughed. He moved his broom smoothly, in a straight line, across the field as he chased after the other boy. Soon, he had Malfoy cornered between himself and one of the towers.

"Give it here!" he shouted as the wind picked up. "Give it here, right now!"

"Want, it, Potter?" the boy snarled. "Then go get it!"

With that, Malfoy threw the Remembrall down towards the ground and Harry dove after it with grace. It was practically the easiest thing he had ever done. When the Remembrall was only inches from the ground, he grabbed it and held it up for everyone to see.

"YAY!" shouted Ron as he ran to Harry. "You should do that again."

"Yeah," said Dean. "That was awesome!"

"POTTER!" A strict female voice shouted. Harry got off his broom and turned around to see Professor McGonagall running towards him. "Potter, come with me this instant."

Oh no. Not again. Could this mean another detention? Or worse, expulsion? His parents had told him all about McGonagall and how she was probably the strictest professor (apart from Snape) in the entire school. He was frozen to the spot and stood there, staring, as McGonagall reached him.

"Come with me," she said sternly.

Behind him, Harry could hear Malfoy and several of the Slytherins snickering. They even knew he was in trouble. What would his mother say now? She would surely kill him.

He followed his Head of House mutely toward the castle. McGonagall led him up the marble staircase to Professor Lupin's classroom.

"Excuse me, Professor," she said politely as she opened the door. "May I borrow Wood for a moment, please?"

_Wood? _Harry thought, his heart sinking. Was she going to beat him with wood?

"Certainly," Remus smiled and cocked his head toward someone in the back row of the classroom.

Out came a handsome, burly boy with brown hair and brown eyes.

"Potter," McGonagall said. "This is Oliver Wood. He's the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. I would like you to be on his team. Wood," she turned to the boy, patting Harry on the back slightly, "I've found you a Seeker."

Harry's stomach dropped to the floor. He couldn't believe it. There hadn't been a first year on a Quidditch team in over a hundred years! According to his parents, that is.

"Professor," he had to make sure he hadn't misheard her. "Are you sure I'm Seeker material? I mean, first years never make the House teams."

"Well, Mr. Potter," she said smiling, "that has officially changed because you just made it. Your parents will be so proud of you, especially your father. He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

Not only excellent, but one of the best Hogwarts had ever had, according to Lily, who had always had an admiration for her husband's skills. Harry couldn't wait to tell both of them.

"Practice starts next Friday at five. Make sure you have a broom by then," said Wood, but he had a look on his face that said he wasn't sure about Harry, which Harry couldn't blame, as he wasn't so sure about himself.

But, still, it was exciting. He couldn't wait to tell his classmates, either, especially Hermione, who had been so dead set on him getting expelled. When he returned to the Courtyard, everyone was dead quiet and looked at him nervously.

"What happened?" asked Neville slowly. "You didn't get detention, did you?"

"No," Harry said, and he paused for dramatic effect before responding, "I'm on the Quidditch team."

Ron screamed, "That's amazing!"

Madam Hooch just blew her whistle and told everyone be quiet and let her finish her lesson.

A few hours later, the first year Gryffindor boys were in the Common Room and Harry was busy writing a letter to his parents to tell them the news, when Fred and George Weasley burst into the room, George looking royally pissed.

"I can't believe that!" he was shouting. "That bastard!"

"What happened?" asked Ron, getting up from his game of chess with Dean to see what was the matter with his brother.

"Snape gave Angelina a detention," Fred explained, "and George is pissed."

"It was the meanest thing I'd ever seen!" said George, throwing his scarf down on the couch in front of him. "We got our grades on our essays back today, and Angelina wasn't happy with hers. I think she got an E, but I'm not positive—"

"She did," Fred interrupted with a hint of disappointment in his voice as though to say that it would have been best if she had just kept her E (for "Excellent") and been happy about it.

"Anyway," George continued. "She thought she deserved an O, so she went up to him and tried to reason with him, you know, talking about how she thought he needed to look at her essay again, and you know what he did?"

"No," said Ron. "What did he do?"

"He took her essay back, wrote 'T' in red ink, and then told her to leave the classroom!" Harry and the rest of the first-year boys gasped. A "T" stood for "Troll." It was the lowest grade you could possibly receive.

"Then he gave her a detention and took away, like, forty points from Gryffindor," said Fred. "It wasn't pleasant."

"I'm going to get revenge," George said, and judging by what Harry already knew about Fred and George, Snape was in for a surprise.

%^%^

Lily didn't want to dress up for the meeting with Severus. She didn't put on any make up or perfume, or do her hair in any special fashion. Instead, she wore a simple brown robe and her hair tied back in a pony tail.

James hadn't bothered to dress up, either. He still wore his black Auror robes. After having Apparated in front of the castle, they were greeted by Argus Filch, the caretaker of the school, and his cat, Mrs. Norris.

They held hands as they made their way down to the dungeon of the school. Severus Snape's office was at the very bottom, where it was freezing. James knocked on the door loudly out of frustration.

The door opened and Lily could see Severus's eyes narrow as he noticed James. However, upon noticing Lily, his eyes brightened considerably, and she fought back the urged to roll hers. Instead, she clutched tighter onto James's hand.

"Good evening, Lily," Severus said, ignoring James. "Won't you come in?" He obviously hadn't intended on this being a formal meeting, otherwise he would have addressed her as "Mrs. Potter." It was unnerving to Lily. In fact, it made her sick to her stomach.

James was the first to set foot in the door, however. He walked passed Severus and surveyed his office.

"Nice decorations," he commented blandly as he found his chair.

It was sarcasm, obviously, as James never would have commented seriously on anything like decorations on Severus's behalf, and Lily found his office to be quite the norm for a Potions teacher. It was filled with cauldrons, test tubes, and potion bottles, same as Professor Slughorn's office back when he was the Potions Master.

"Severus," Lily began without preamble as she sat down beside her husband. "We all know that Harry hasn't done anything wrong." 

"Of course, he did!" Severus snapped, but the look on his face afterward told Lily that he regretted it. "Lily, I'm sorry, but you have to understand that your son is just as arrogant as his father and doesn't respect his elders." 

"That is not true!" James nearly shouted. "My son respects everyone! We've taught him well."

"Well, apparently, not well enough," Severus said icily. "But, I couldn't expect anything more coming from your offspring, Potter."

"Severus, stop it!" Lily said before her husband could retort. "We all know why we're here. You're still angry with James and so you're taking it out on Harry. That much is obvious, but you have to let it go. James has changed. Now, you need to."

She stared into his black eyes angrily and crossed her arms. "Besides," and she couldn't believe she was actually admitting this to him, but she had to do it if this was ever going to stop. "I know you're jealous of James because of me. But, get this through your head: _I am not in love with you and I never will be._ You have to let _me _go! There are plenty of women out there for you. We can help you find them, if you would only let us. I don't mind it at all if it will help you get your mind off me."

Because she knew that once he did, he would leave Harry alone, too.

James's face paled even more. It was clear to Lily that he hadn't been expecting for her to say anything like that, but she knew he knew about Severus's feelings.

But, Severus himself was unphased, or at least, he tried to be. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, lying badly. Lily could hear the hesitation in his voice, and apparently, so could James, because he got up, grabbed Lily's hand, and turned to leave.

"Let's go, Lily," he said as he ushered her out the door. "I can't deal with him. There's no use arguing. He won't listen."

Lily looked at Severus angrily as they left, her eyes flashing. She would make him listen if it was the last thing she did.

As they made their way up the stairs, she voiced her opinion. "We have to find someone for him."

But, James did a double take and looked at her incredulously. "What do you mean?' he asked.

"I know it sounds silly," she said, "but I want him to realize that there are other women out there besides me. We have to find him a girlfriend."

James rolled his eyes. "Are you sure this is even about you?" he asked. "Do you really think _that _is the reason why he's targeting Harry?"

"That has to be part of it," she replied. "I know he's jealous of you. That much is obvious. I just know that if he found someone else, he would at least be _nicer _because he wouldn't have any reason to _be _jealous anymore. Come on. Let's do it."

"You can do that, but I'm staying out of it."

"Oh, please, James. You're the one with all the contacts! We could throw a party or something and have a friend get together with him. I think he might actually like it."

"I doubt—" but before he could finish his thought, James tripped on the steps in front of him.

"Are you alright?" Lily asked, helping him to his feet. "Are you ok?" 

"I'm fine," James said as he brushed off his robes. "I just…lost my balance."


End file.
